


Until you get to the other side

by chr0matic



Category: Gintama
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, Ghosts, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-01-15 22:43:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21260840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chr0matic/pseuds/chr0matic
Summary: The anniversary of a dear departed one's death nears, and the old pine tree in the garden is haunted by a broken promise. Unspoken grief, unseen sorrow and a boy who is the bridge between both.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Akiko_kitsune for her feedback 💕💕💕

“I swear, the ghost was really there! Under the pine tree!”

“You’re waking me up in the middle of the night for this? Go by yourself. You’re almost ten, you’re not a little kid anymore!”

“Come on, I really need to go!” Gintoki put his arms in front of his crotch and danced from one foot to the other.

“Ghosts don’t exist, you idiot.” Takasugi said with a tone of finality and rolled over.

“Ok then. I’m going by myself.” Gintoki proclaimed and opened the sliding door that led to the garden, but made no move to leave the room. “All alone. On my own.” He looked over his shoulder, making a face as if someone had stolen his supply of strawberry milk.

Takasugi wordlessly took Gintoki’s pillow and put it over his head to block out his voice.

“In the morning, you’re going to find my stiff corpse under the pine tree. Stone-cold dead. And it’ll be your fault. Is that what you want?”

Takasugi grabbed the second pillow and threw it in Gintoki’s face with a growl of frustration.

“Ow,” he whined. “Careful, I almost peed myself!”

Takasugi rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine! I’ll go with you! If that’s what it takes for you to leave me alone.”

They walked to the bathroom. ShōkaSonjuku, filled with noise and laughter during daytime, was eerily quiet now. Transformed by shadows and the light of the crescent moon, it almost seemed to be a different place.

“Go do your business, and fast!” Takasugi leaned against a pillar while Gintoki disappeared into the bathroom. He crossed his arms and let his gaze drift over the moonlit garden, suppressing a yawn. He snorted when his eyes fell upon the old pine tree. Of course there was nothing—

There was a boy standing beneath the pine tree. He seemed to be around his age, maybe a few years older, and his wavy hair shimmered in the moonlight like silver. He was dressed in black and white, in an attire that resembled that of a mountain ascetic. He looked very sad and very tired.

“Hey you,” Takasugi called out. “What the hell are you doing here? I’m going to save you a whole lot of trouble: we don’t have anything worth stealing, so you can get lost.”

The boy didn’t say a word, but seemed to have heard him since he turned his head towards him.

Takasugi approached him, a little wary due to the boy’s odd behaviour and appearance. “Hey! I’m talking to you. What are you doing here in the middle of the night?” Still no answer. Was the boy mute? He didn’t try to make a run for it, so perhaps he hadn’t come to steal after all. His pale skin and the deep shadows under his eyes made him look kind of sickly. Maybe he needed help? “Are you lost? Did you run away from home?”

Now that he was closer, Takasugi noticed that there was a long scar on the boy’s white face. He thought he saw a flash of anger and resentment in his silver eyes, like moonlight reflected on a naked blade. A wave of dizziness and confusion rolled over him. For some reason, he couldn’t look away anymore. He was being sucked into those dark silver depths, down and down, into a bottomless abyss …

“That’s much better! I thought I was going to explode!” Gintoki stepped out onto the veranda, stretching his arms.

Suddenly, as if a spell had been broken, Takasugi could move again. He turned to his fellow student. “Gintoki! Is that the ghost that you were talking—"

Something rustled in the grass behind Takasugi. He whipped around, but the silver-haired boy was already gone. He stared at the spot where he’d been standing. What had just happened? Had he been hypnotised? But that was nonsense, just like ghosts. He must’ve imagined it—it was late in the night, after all, and he was sleepy.

“What did you say?” Gintoki asked and yawned.

Takasugi shook his head. “Nothing. Let’s go already. If you wake me up again I’m going to kick your ass.” _Of course that boy wasn’t a ghost,_ Takasugi thought. _He had feet after all. Gintoki is just a moron._ Though the boy had definitely been a little creepy.

* * *

Shōyō smiled when he heard the boys bickering outside his room. They were always at each other’s throats, but it was obvious that the friendship between them ran deep. He sighed and massaged his aching temples. He never slept well around this time of the year. Years had passed and yet, his dreams were still haunted by the sight of a small body crushed to death by fallen rocks. He’d promised to keep him safe. He had vowed to protect his young charge, and yet, he had been the one who was protected. A monster, saved by an innocent child. What right did he have to call himself a teacher? He shook his head as if to dispel his dark thoughts and took a shaky breath. If he looked back, he would be crushed, consumed, he would cease to be himself. His students needed him. He could not allow himself to look back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Selyann for her feedback 💕💕💕 Be aware that I made some changes to the first chapter (just the last part) because I felt it made more sense from a character development standpoint. I hope it's not too annoying to go back and read it again.

For the first few days after Takasugi had seen the strange boy, he was on the lookout for him at night, but didn’t see so much as a glimpse of his silver hair. Two weeks passed, and he had almost forgotten the incident. Then, one night, after tossing and turning and being forced to listen to Gintoki's blissful snoring for what felt like an eternity, Takasugi decided to take a stroll in the garden to get some air. He frowned and rubbed his eyes when he saw a dark shape in the pine tree, suspecting a trick of the light. But it didn’t disappear.

It was the silver-haired boy. He was sitting on a branch high up in the pine tree, gazing at the night sky.

“It’s you again,” Takasugi said, looking up to the boy. He hesitated for a moment, uneasy because of the strange turn their last encounter had taken. Even if he discounted the last part as some kind of hallucination his sleep-deprived brain had dreamed up, the boy hadn’t exactly seemed friendly. But in the end, his curiosity won over his trepidation—he wanted to find out why he kept coming to Shōka Sonjuku at night. And so he started climbing up the rough tree trunk.

“Are you gonna tell me now why you keep coming here?” Takasugi asked somewhat breathlessly as he settled on the branch on which the boy was sitting, leaving an arm’s length of space between them. Just like last time, the boy acknowledged him by briefly meeting his eyes, but didn’t answer his question.

“Thought so,” Takasugi murmured. At least the boy didn’t seem hostile tonight. His stomach felt a little queasy when he looked down. They were pretty high up. A fall from here would lead to serious injuries, if not broken bones. “Did you run away from home?” Takasugi tried again after a while, encouraged by the fact that the boy didn’t seem to mind his company. The boy shook his silver head.

“So you do understand me!” Takasugi was elated. Now he was a step closer to solving this mystery. “What about your parents,” he continued. “Won’t they be worried if you wander around at night?”

The boy lowered his eyes and slowly shook his head again.

“Oh ...” Did that mean his parents were dead? Or maybe they had abandoned him? Even though Takasugi’s relationship with his family was beyond repair now, he’d always had a roof over his head and never went hungry—as long as he had obeyed his father, that was. He couldn’t really imagine what it was like to be all on his own, and mute at that. “So you’re all alone? Where do you live?”

The boy shrugged.

“You don’t have a place to stay?” Takasugi’s mouth fell open. It was still warm during the daytime, but the nights were starting to get cold. He remembered all too well how his father had forced him to spend the night outside a few times as a punishment. He’d spent the whole night shivering from the cold and had barely gotten a wink of sleep. “I’ll wake up Sensei,” he said resolutely. “He’s going to help you.”

But before he could start to climb down the tree, the boy grabbed his arm, furiously shaking his head. He raised a finger to his lips, his eyes widened with fear.

Takasugi was puzzled. “You don’t want me to tell him about you? Why?” Maybe the boy didn’t trust adults? Judging by the scar on his face and the dark circles under his eyes, he must’ve gone through a lot, so it was no wonder that he was wary of other people. “You don’t need to be scared,” Takasugi said reassuringly. “Sensei isn’t like other adults. He always means what he says. And he doesn’t think that we’re stupid just because we’re kids. He doesn't preach. He’s … he’s the best teacher in the world. He’ll help you.” Takasugi noticed with embarrassment that he’d been gushing and paused for a moment, glancing at the other boy.

But the boy didn’t laugh. He just listened to him attentively.

“Do you want to know more about the school?” Takasugi asked. The boy’s silver eyes lit up, and he nodded. Takasugi moved closer to him until they were sitting side by side.

And then he told him about Shōka Sonjuku. He told him about Sensei’s lessons. How Sensei opened up an entire new universe of thoughts and ideas to them that they’d never even been aware of. How the students hung on his every word, eager to learn, eager to improve themselves and one day, the world. How he told them to think for themselves, that what he taught them was only one way to understand the world and that they should question everything and everyone and form their own ideas. He told him about long afternoons of kendō training and excursions to the river to fish and splash in the water, about stag beetle hunts in the forest and fireworks at the beach.

The boy’s eyes began to shine brighter and brighter the longer he talked about Shōka Sonjuku. But then, a sudden shadow seemed to fall over him and he looked away and put his arms around himself as if he were cold. Takasugi trailed off, perplexed by his sudden shift in mood. Had he said something to upset the boy? Then, an idea flashed into his mind. Maybe there was something he could do to cheer him up.

“I’ll be back in a bit.” Takasugi hurried to the kitchen. There should be some rice balls that Katsura had made from leftover rice from dinner. And as if by a miracle, they hadn’t been eaten by Gintoki yet. He rushed back to the garden and climbed the pine tree again, then offered the food to the silver-haired boy. “Here. I thought you might be hungry, since …”

The boy looked at the rice balls, then at Takasugi’s face, his eyes widening. He reached for the food reluctantly, as if he were expecting him to play a trick on him.

Takasugi nodded. “Go ahead. It’s for you.”

The boy finally took the package with the rice balls. His lips curved into a shy smile.

Takasugi felt his cheeks growing warm. He couldn’t help but to smile back. “It’s … uh, it’s nothing special, but …" For some reason, his tongue felt clumsy in his mouth and he stumbled over his words. "They’re with pickled plum ... I hope you like that.” Then, he rubbed his eyes and suppressed a yawn, overcome by fatigue. “It’s pretty late … I think I’m going to catch some sleep.”

He began to climb down the tree. Suddenly, he slipped and lost his footing with a curse. A violent jerk went through his shoulder and then, he was precariously hanging from just one hand, his legs dangling in the air. There was an ominous crack. A mixture of moss and pieces of tree bark rained down on him, and the branch that he’d been holding onto broke off. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the painful impact, but a hand shot out and grabbed his arm. He opened his eyes to see a pale face framed by silver curls hovering above him, brows furrowed in concern. The boy had stopped his fall. He pulled him up to safety with surprising strength.

“Thanks,” Takasugi gasped, trying to calm his racing heart. The boy inspected his hands for scrapes and bruises. When he was convinced that he hadn’t suffered any injuries, he brushed off the dirt from his clothes and picked pieces of bark from his hair. Takasugi let him, still too rattled to feel embarrassed. After he had recovered a little from the shock, he resumed his descent, slower and more careful this time. He sighed in relief when his feet touched the ground again. “I’ll see you around.” He looked up and waved goodbye to his friend.

The silver-haired boy nodded and waved back, his silhouette thrown in sharp relief by the light of the moon. It almost looked like he was part of the tree.

* * *

He was floating in a sea of darkness. He opened his eyes, but he couldn’t see anyone else. He cried out for help, but there was no answer. He reached out into the blackness, but there was nobody there. He was utterly, completely alone, drowning in this all-encompassing darkness. It wrapped around his arms and legs, then crept up his neck, towards his head. He tried to pry it off, to free himself, but to no avail. It entered his body through his mouth and nose, an icy cold liquid that took the air away, suffocating him. It slowly broke his body down from the inside and he was starting to dissolve, to disintegrate—

A memory flashed before his eyes.

A man with long hair and a boy sitting at a campfire beneath a pine tree.

Warmth, light and a promise.

_My first disciple. _

_I’m going to protect you. _

Suddenly, the darkness released him and he could breathe again. And then, there was a tiny, tiny flame hovering before him. When he reached for it hesitantly, it started to move away and he followed, desperately afraid to lose it. After he had pursued the tiny flame for a long time, he saw a weak shimmer in the distance. As he approached it, he noticed that it was a rift in the sea of darkness. Light was pouring through it. He moved towards the opening, and the bright light engulfed him completely.

When he came to again, he found himself lying in the grass under an old pine tree in a moonlit garden. What had happened? How had he come here, and where was Sensei? He tried to recall the last thing he remembered before the sea of darkness, but it was all jumbled and in fragments like a broken piece of pottery. He’d been traveling with Sensei … but the Naraku caught up with them … a searing pain in his chest, blood on his hands … had he killed someone? No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t piece the memories together.

He decided to explore the garden instead, hoping that he might find some clue as to what had happened to him, but discovered that he couldn’t stray far from the tree. As soon as he crossed an invisible line a few meters away from the pine, he felt dizzy and the scenery in front of him began warping and running together like splotches of ink on wet paper. How could this be? Was he dreaming? This had to be a dream. And if it was, the only thing he could do was to wait until he woke up. He sat down beneath the pine, hugging his knees. It was dark and the cold started seeping into his bones, until it felt like it was coming from inside himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, many thanks to Selyann for her feedback 💕💕💕 And please check the tags, they have been updated with some warnings for this chapter.

Over the next few weeks, they met many times. Takasugi tried to find out whether there was some rhyme or reason as to when the silver-haired boy would come to their garden. While the time seemed to be entirely random, he was always waiting for him near the pine tree whenever he was there. And so Takasugi took to spending a lot of time beneath its sprawling branches at night, eagerly awaiting their next meeting. The boy never spoke a single word, but it was obvious that he liked listening to Takasugi talking about Shōka Sonjuku. Soon, their talks expanded to his daily life, and even his troubles with his family. Sometimes they played in the pine tree, pretending that they were Jōi shishi who had boarded an Amanto spaceship.

Takasugi brought paper and writing materials for him, hoping that they would be able to communicate that way, but as it turned out, the boy couldn’t write. Even so, his friend didn’t seem to mind how one-sided their conversations were, always listening to him with interest. Takasugi brought him little gifts, more rice balls, sweets or fruit, and the boy accepted them with a smile, his pale cheeks dusted with pink. 

Takasugi suggested that he could sleep in the dōjō, reassuring him that it was never used during the night. He was also secretly hoping for a kendo match with his friend, burning to find out how skilled he was with the sword. But the boy declined the offer. Maybe he was still scared of Shōyō, maybe he had found a place to sleep. Takasugi was disappointed. He wished he could do more to help his friend and kept on hoping that he could convince him to join Shōka Sonjuku one day. 

Sometimes Takasugi thought about telling Sensei or Gintoki and Katsura about him. But there was something irresistible about having a secret friend, someone who belonged to him alone.

* * *

Takasugi was in a bad mood tonight. He restlessly paced the garden until his feet carried him to the pine tree out of habit. But even the prospect of meeting the boy didn’t do much to lift his spirits. He produced the letter he’d received from his father from his kimono with a sigh. He’d spent the better part of the day reading it over and over. Why had he even bothered to open it? He should have just thrown it away. He crumpled the letter into a ball and angrily threw it on the ground.

There was a rustling in the pine tree above and when Takasugi looked up, he saw the boy climbing down swiftly with catlike agility.

“Hey”, he greeted him sheepishly. He hadn’t meant for anyone to see his outburst.

The boy waved and his lips curved into the hesitant smile Takasugi had grown to know so well. Then, he tilted his head and pointed at the crumpled letter on the ground, a questioning expression on his face. 

Takasugi sighed. “It’s … I got a letter from my father. He wants me to come home. He wants me to stop attending Sensei’s lessons.” He clenched his fists. “But I’ve made my decision. I’m never going back, never!” Takasugi raised his voice, submerged by a wave of anger. “He thinks he knows what’s best for me, but how can he? He only talks to me to criticise me or to order me around. He doesn’t care what I think because I’m just a stupid kid to him. He … he doesn’t care about me!” He kicked the crumpled letter, sending it flying into the bushes. 

The boy, who had been listening quietly, put a soothing hand on his arm. Takasugi remembered his father sitting at his desk in his study, not even turning around when he pleaded with him to be allowed to attend Shōka Sonjuku. He remembered the sinking feeling in his stomach when his father caught him practicing the shamisen and took the instrument away, declaring it frivolous and a tool for courtesans and the lower classes. He remembered feeling crushed under his withering gaze when he scolded him for picking fights with the other students of the academy. 

Takasugi exhaled shakily, then met the boy’s silver eyes. There was no judgment in his gaze. Just warmth and sincerity. Takasugi could feel the surge of emotion within quieting slowly. Something deep inside of him melted away, thawing, flowing. His throat closed up and he swallowed hard, blinking furiously, but it was too late. Hot tears were running down his face. 

“Damn it …” Takasugi wiped at his eyes, cheeks burning with embarrassment, but the tears wouldn’t stop. The boy’s expression softened, and he gently wrapped his arms around him. Takasugi wanted to protest. He was a proud samurai! He didn’t need to be coddled. He was too old to be treated like a baby. The boy rubbed slow circles between his shoulder blades and Takasugi gave in, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Soft silver curls tickled his cheek. The boy’s arms were warm and safe, a barrier against the night.

When Takasugi had calmed down again, he suddenly became very aware of how close the boy’s face was to his. His chest felt tight and his heart was beating fast, so fast, as if it wanted to jump out of his ribcage. His friend affectionately brushed his tousled hair out of his eyes. Takasugi stared at him as if in a trance. He traced the long scar on his face with his finger. It must’ve hurt like hell … whoever gave it to him, he wished he could give them a good beating. He caressed his cheek as if to console him. The boy’s breath hitched and his eyes widened. He lowered his gaze, a deep blush spreading on his pale face. Then he looked up at Takasugi through long lashes, his lips curving into a shy smile. Something golden bloomed in Takasugi’s chest, grew and flowered until there was hardly any room left for air. As he locked gazes with the boy, he realised that it had bloomed within him too, and they looked at each other full of wonder and delight. 

Then, they sat down beneath the pine tree, shoulders touching. The silver-haired boy leaned his head against his, and Takasugi reached for his white hand and clasped it. They sat there together in silence, the rise and fall of their chests slowly falling into the same rhythm until it seemed as if they had only one breath.

* * *

Takasugi dreamed. He dreamed that he was on a journey with Shōyō. It was late afternoon, and the golden light falling through the cedar trees was fading rapidly. The leaves on the hills had not turned yet, but the crisp air and the cold sunlight already carried the first portents of autumn with them. His feet hurt and his legs were as heavy as lead. He wasn’t used to traveling such long distances, but he tried his best to hide his discomfort and to keep up with Shōyō’s long strides. He didn’t want to slow him down. What if the Naraku caught up to them because of him—wait, who or what were the Naraku? Takasugi briefly pondered this question, but decided that it wasn’t important. This was only a dream, after all.

“I know you’re tired, but we should really get off this mountain and reach the next village before dark,” Shōyō said when they stopped for a short break.

“Yes, Sensei ...” he replied and longingly glanced at a nearby tree stump, wishing they could sit down and rest for a while.

“You haven’t complained even once. I’m proud of you.” Shōyō affectionately tousled his curls, and he felt the blood rushing to his cheeks. “It shouldn’t be that far anymore. Just a little while longer, then we can rest.” 

They continued their journey. Night was falling, and the sun was but a sliver of red light on the horizon. He was so tired that he could barely lift his feet, and it was becoming harder and harder to keep his eyes from falling shut. When he dozed off for the fraction of a second, his foot got caught on a tree root and he lost his balance and fell, landing heavily on his knees. 

Shōyō turned around and rushed to his side, concern etched on his face. “Are you alright? Where does it hurt?”

“I’m fine ... I’m sorry for causing you worry.” he reassured him through gritted teeth. Pain was radiating through his left knee, which had taken the brunt of the fall.

Shōyō raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?” 

He nodded, shrinking away from his gaze. He wished Shōyō would stop fussing over him. Digging his nails into his palms, he rose to his feet again in an attempt to prove that nothing was wrong with him. 

But he couldn’t fool Shōyō. He shook his head with a sigh. Surely he was disappointed with him for being so clumsy. “You shouldn’t walk on that leg. I’ll carry you the rest of the way and we’ll take a look at it when we’ve made camp for the night.” 

He nodded silently, his head bowed low. Tears were pricking his eyes. “Sensei ... I’m so sorry.” he said, voice quivering. He wanted nothing more than to disappear. “I came after you because … because I wanted to be of use to you, but …” His hands clenched the hem of his kimono. “I’m just slowing you down. I’m …. I’m nothing but a burden.” 

Shōyō smiled and gently patted his arm. “Nonsense! You’re not a burden. After all, I decided to take you with me because I wanted to.” He furrowed his brow, his expression turning apologetic. “I’m the one at fault. As your teacher, it’s my job to look after you. I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard.” 

He blinked, trying to keep the tears at bay. “B-but …” 

“Now, come here and hop on already.” Shōyō knelt on the ground with his back turned towards him. When he noticed his hesitation, he looked over his shoulder and gave him a reassuring nod. “Come on. You can sleep a bit if you like. We’ll be there in no time.”

He climbed on Shōyō’s broad back and wrapped his arms around his neck. “I hope I’m not too heavy …” he said in a small voice. “Please let me down when you start getting tired ...” He could feel Shōyō’s laugh reverberating through his back. 

“I’ll be just fine. You weigh next to nothing. I could do this all day!” 

“Thank you, Sensei …”  _ So much for not slowing him down, _ he thought.  _ Surely he regrets taking you with him now. You’re not worthy of being his first disciple.  _ Finally, the tears he’d been holding back so desperately spilled over and he hid his face in Shōyō’s long hair, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

* * *

Takasugi awoke to find that dawn had broken and that his silver-haired friend was no longer at his side. He felt a pang of disappointment. Somehow, he’d hoped … His body was wet with dew and his limbs felt stiff and heavy. He stretched his arms and legs, shaking off the last vestiges of sleep and frowned. What a strange dream. Him, Shōyō’s first disciple? He shook his head. Annoying though it was, Gintoki was Shōyō’s first student. Takasugi could only aim to be the first in skill. 

When he thought back to what had passed between him and the boy before they fell asleep, his face flushed and his heart began to flutter in his chest like a caged bird. He couldn’t wait to see him again. He decided to use all his powers of persuasion the next time they met to convince him to finally join the school and come to live with them. Then they would be able to see each other every day. He went into the house with a spring in his step and his head filled with pleasant daydreams of splashing in the sea with the boy, training kendo with him or snacking on sweets together at his favourite candy shop.

* * *

Countless nights passed without change and he was beginning to lose hope that he would ever escape his invisible cage. Would he be bound to the pine tree forever? But then, on a night with a full moon, he saw him. 

He saw Sensei sitting on the veranda, gazing at the night sky, a cup of sake in his hand. 

“Sensei!” he cried. “It’s me … I’m here!” 

But Sensei didn’t hear him. He didn’t even look in his direction. 

“Sensei!” he pleaded. “Please … help me … I don’t know what happened, but it looks like I’m trapped. I can’t leave the area around this pine tree and it’s always night … something’s wrong. I’m scared … Please … help me.” 

Sensei turned his head towards him. 

Hope began to flutter in his chest. “Sen-“ 

But he didn’t look at him. He looked through him, as if he was made of thin air, as if he wasn’t there. His heart was beating painfully against his chest. Why was Sensei ignoring him? Had he done something to anger him? 

Maybe he regretted making him his first disciple. That must be it. He’d gone against his teachings and tried to learn assassination techniques by himself behind his back. Worse still, there was blood on his hands. His memories of the night when he was separated from Sensei remained fuzzy, but he dimly remembered facing the assassins, the stench of blood in his nose and screams of pain after he threw a kunai. He had killed the Naraku pursuers, betrayed Sensei’s principles. Of course Sensei did not want anything to do with him anymore. 

A sob escaped his quivering lips. An invisible hand reached into his chest and squeezed and squeezed until it felt like his heart would burst. He curled up into a ball in the grass beneath the tree and wept. 

* * *

After he’d spent nights and nights in the grasp of despair, its hold began to loosen. Maybe … he could make amends somehow, convince Sensei to allow him to be his student again. But his hopes were dashed soon after when he found out the reason why he must be ignoring him. 

The next time he saw him, he was in the company of three boys around his own age, each one of them holding a sparkler. 

“Careful,” Sensei warned. “Hold it away from you.” Then, he lit a matchstick and held it to the coated ends. 

After a few moments of silence, the molten buds at the end erupted into fiery blossoms, illuminating the darkness. The children gasped and cheered, marvelling at the spectacle. The three boys and Sensei smiled at each other, their faces aglow with golden light.

Something white-hot bubbled up from the pit of his stomach, burning and choking him. He wanted to knock the fireworks out of their hands, shove them, wipe those smiles off their faces. He wanted to scream and cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. Instead, there was an aching hollow in his chest. Maybe that was where the tears had gone. Suddenly, it was hard to breathe and he pressed his hands against his chest, struggling for air. Cold sweat rolled down his forehead.

He wanted it to stop. He wanted to disappear. His gaze was drawn to the well in a corner of the garden. But he remained a prisoner, chained to the pine by an unknown force. He looked up to the crown of the tree, high up above. His limbs would not obey—it was as if all his strength had been sapped out of him. He sank to the ground with a whimper, buried his face in his hands and went far, far away.

* * *

Shōyō ran his hand over the rough bark of the old pine tree with a frown. It had begun to weep resin overnight, beads of amber running down its grooves.  _ How strange _ , he thought.  _ The tree hasn’t been damaged … what could be causing this?  _ His gaze fell on the class room. Shinsuke had been distracted in class as of late, even nodding off once in a while. What could be the reason for this uncharacteristic behaviour? He’d been spending an inordinate amount of time in the garden, sometimes after dark. Shōyō had even overheard him talking to himself. An imaginary friend? But Shinsuke was getting too old for such things ... maybe it was his way of coping with his familial troubles? Shōyō resolved to speak with Shinsuke soon, determined to help his student. He took a last glance at the pine tree before entering the house, hoping that it would recover from whatever it was ailing from. Even if it was not the same tree, it served as a reminder of that night under another pine … and the one who had been there with him at the very beginning of Shōka Sonjuku. 

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to [Akiko_kitsune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_kitsune) for her feedback 💕💕💕

The next evening, Takasugi hurried to the garden as soon as everyone else was asleep, bearing the silver-haired boy’s favourite sweets in his arms. The day had seemed dreadfully long, as if it would never end, but now, he’d finally see him again. And tonight, he’d do his damndest to convince him to join the school. They’d study together, live together. The boy would learn to write, and he’d finally be able to truly talk to him.

Takasugi sat down beneath the pine tree. He looked at the spot where the boy had sat last night and ran his hand over the flattened grass. He remembered how he had enlaced his fingers with the boy’s, their hands fitting together like the two halves of the same shell. He hoped he would let him hold his hand again. But the hours passed and there was no trace of his friend. Takasugi shifted his position with a sigh. He hugged his knees, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in his stomach. Where was the boy? What was taking him so long? The longer the night went on, the more his spirits sank. And when dawn painted the sky in streaks of red and purple, Takasugi had to admit to himself that the boy would not come anymore tonight.

Why had the boy not come? Did he regret what had happened last night? But Takasugi had been so sure that he’d felt the same ... could he have been wrong? He shook his head as if to dispel his doubts. It was not unusual for the boy to not show up for several days, and he’d given him no indication that he had done something to anger him. Surely there was a perfectly harmless reason why his friend had not visited him today. Surely nothing was amiss, and they would see each other and hold hands again tomorrow.

Another night passed with no sign of the boy, and yet another night, and then, a whole week. As he waited underneath the cold moonlight with his back leaned against the pine, Takasugi’s stomach tied itself into knots. Maybe the boy wasn’t angry with him or simply too busy to visit. Maybe … it was something else. Maybe he had wanted to come, but hadn’t been able to. His friend had seemed capable and had been managing on his own somehow so far, but he was all alone … What if he was injured or sick? How could he help him if he didn’t know where he was? Should he tell Shōyō about the boy? He already seemed to have sensed that Takasugi had been hiding something from him, Gintoki and Katsura. Earlier this day, Shōyō had taken Takasugi aside after dinner and asked if something was troubling him and if he wanted to talk about it. But Takasugi had promised the boy not to tell anyone about him. And so he had claimed that everything was fine.

Takasugi bit his lip. Should he ask Shōyō for help? Shōyō would know what to do. But he also didn’t want to betray the boy’s trust … What should he do? His throat tightened, and hot tears welled up in his eyes. But then, he remembered how warm the boy’s arms had felt around him, and how his silver eyes had looked upon him with such tenderness. He wiped the tears away, feeling a little calmer. Maybe there was something he could do. There were still a few hours before dawn. If he hurried, he could make it to the city and back before his absence would be noticed. The boy’s scar and his silver hair made him quite conspicuous, so he might chance upon someone who knew him or had seen him.

He snuck out of Shōka Sonjuku and made his way towards the city. The streets were almost deserted except the occasional drunkard. He kept to the shadows, but nobody seemed to pay him attention anyway. As he wandered the meandering streets, he quickly realised how little he had thought his plan through. Where would he even look? He had no idea where the boy lived. He dimly remembered seeing beggars and peddlers on previous excursions to the city, but had never paid them much mind. They’d always blended into the scenery for him, too removed from his daily experience to even register. Finally, he came to a part of the city that he didn’t know. The streets were narrow and the small houses were broken down and in a state of disrepair, their walls so crooked that it looked as if they were leaning onto each other. A lone stray dog started barking at Takasugi. When he approached, it whined and scurried away, its tail between its legs. Then, a hunched shadow slowly emerged from an alleyway. Takasugi’s heart nearly stopped, and he tightened the grip on his sword. The moonlight revealed an old man with a lazy eye, dressed in faded rags.

“Run away from home?” The man’s voice was deep and rough, but not unfriendly. “You should go back. This is no place for you.”

Takasugi swallowed. The old man didn’t seem dangerous, but … He gathered all his courage. “I-I’m looking for someone,” he said, trying to mask his insecurity with his brusque tone. He quickly described his friend.

The old man contemplated Takasugi’s words for a while, scratching his stubbly chin. “Never seen a boy with silver hair around here,” he drawled and shook his shaggy head. “I’m sorry,” he added in a softer tone, noticing how crestfallen Takasugi looked. “You should go home now. It’s not safe for you alone at night.”

Takasugi hung his head, defeated. There was nothing left for him to do but to return to Shōka Sonjuku. His breath formed little white clouds as he walked back home. Temperatures had dropped, and he began to shiver after being outside in the cold for hours. Where was the boy? Was he forced to spend the night in the open, freezing? Was he hurt or sick like Takasugi had feared? He imagined his friend burning up with a fever, with no one to wipe his brow and to bring him rice gruel and medicine. His chest constricted painfully, and hot tears rolled down his cheeks. He didn’t bother wiping them away.

The birds had begun to sing when he arrived at Shōka Sonjuku again. He went into the house and crawled into his bed, his heavy lids falling shut almost immediately. But his sleep was not restful, and he was plagued by nightmares in which he was trapped in a cold, dark place and suffocated to death. When he awoke after what seemed like an instant, his pillow was wet with tears.

* * *

“Shinsuke? Shinsuke!” Someone was shaking his arm gently, but firmly. “Wake up! You’re sleeping.”

Takasugi shot up from his desk. He looked around in confusion before remembering that he was in class and almost spontaneously combusted from embarrassment when he noticed Shōyō standing right next to him. He hastened to straighten his posture and wiped the drool from his mouth. “Sensei, I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep in class.”

The other students snickered.

Shōyō furrowed his pale brows. “This is unlike you, Shinsuke. Are you quite alright?”

“I’m sorry for sleeping in class,” Takasugi said quickly. “But I’m fine. I just, uh … haven’t been sleeping well lately.” When his gaze fell on his desk, he noticed that its surface and the floor around it were littered with small paper balls. This could only have been Gintoki’s doing. He whipped around and glared at him. Gintoki gave him a little wave, wearing a shit-eating grin on his face. Takasugi raised his fists, his stomach churning with anger.

But before he could even begin to plot his revenge, Shōyō addressed him again. “Shinsuke!” he scolded, and now there was an edge in his voice. “If you can't pay attention, at least behave yourself.”

Takasugi focused on the lesson again, his ears burning with shame. The last thing he wanted was for Shōyō to think that he was a lazy student. Somehow, he got through the rest of the lesson without falling asleep a second time, pinching himself whenever he started to doze off. Finally, Shōyō closed the book he had been reciting from and declared the lesson to be over, prompting the class room to erupt in shuffling, laughter and animated chatter. Takasugi hastily collected his things, hoping to catch a quick nap before lunch.

But Shōyō stopped him when he walked past him towards the door. “Wait, Shinsuke,” he said. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Yes, Sensei?” Takasugi turned around, wishing for the conversation to end as soon as possible. He could hardly keep his eyes open.

“Would you join me in the garden after lunch?” Shōyō continued. “There’s some work to be done and I could use a little help.”

Takasugi nodded tiredly. “Of course. I’ll be there.” His head was pounding, and all he wanted was to curl up in his bed and sleep.

* * *

“They’re rotten,” Shōyō explained, pointing at the boards covering the well in a corner of the garden. “We need to replace them. It’s dangerous, some of the younger students might fall in.”

Shinsuke nodded wordlessly, eyes half-hidden behind his violet bangs. They started removing the boards. Shōyō supplied some bits of conversation here and there, but otherwise, they did not speak much. Shinsuke only gave short answers, a faraway look on his pale face. Shōyō’s heart ached at the sight of his student’s somber expression and the dark circles beneath his eyes. He should have encouraged him to speak about his troubles sooner. But as usual this particular time of the year, Shōyō had been preoccupied with his own thoughts and he had failed to pay his students his full attention like they deserved. Hopefully, he could remedy this now. Working in the garden and spending some time alone together might cause Shinsuke to feel safe enough to open up. They removed the old boards from the well one by one, sweating in the afternoon heat.

“Do you ... have you ever broken a promise to a friend?” Shinsuke asked suddenly after they had been working in silence for a time. He did not meet Shōyō’s gaze, his eyes fixed on the well. Shōyō pressed his lips together and clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. He turned his head into his disciple’s direction, forcing a gentle smile—and froze. Another little boy was standing there instead of Shinsuke. A boy with wavy silver hair and a long scar on his face. He looked at him without speaking a word, his big silver eyes full of sorrow and resentment. Bile rose in Shōyō’s throat.

“Sensei?” There was a rare note of insecurity in Shinsuke’s voice. “Are you okay?”

Shōyō closed his eyes and pressed his fingers against his temples. He had to focus. He had to keep it together. His student needed him now. “I’m okay … I’m fine.” After taking a few deep breaths, he somehow managed to regain his composure. “Maybe it’s the heat,” he added, noticing the lingering doubt in Shinsuke’s eyes. “And to answer your question: I have.” Shōyō wiped the sweat from his forehead with a trembling hand. “I gave a promise to someone very precious to me … and then, I didn’t keep that promise.”

Shinsuke looked up at him, meeting his gaze for the first time that day. “Do you regret breaking your promise? What happened then? What did your friend say?”

“We never met again after that,” Shōyō said, hoping that Shinsuke wouldn’t notice how strained his voice sounded. “And … I’ve never stopped regretting it.”

Shinsuke contemplated this for a while, wearing a serious expression on his face. Then, he wiped the dirt and grime from his hands and started working on removing the boards again. This time, neither of them spoke until they had finished. They covered the well up with a piece of tarpaulin and secured it with heavy stones.

* * *

Their work completed, they sat on the veranda, sipping cold barley tea and watching the clouds drifting by. Shinsuke swirled around the rest of the tea in his cup, watching the dregs at the bottom dancing in the brown liquid. Then, he looked up, his gaze wandering over the sunlit garden before lingering on the old pine tree.

“Are you worried about the old pine, too, Shinsuke?” Shōyō asked. “It looks like it might be diseased,” he added. “It would be a shame if it didn’t recover. I hope—” To his utter surprise, Shinsuke burst into tears at these words. Momentarily stunned by this unexpected reaction, Shōyō hastened to console his student, gently patting his back. “Oh, Shinsuke. I didn’t realise that the old pine meant so much to you. But we’ll do our utmost to save it. I’m sure there’s something—”

“It’s not …” Shinsuke struggled to speak through the sobs wracking his body. “It’s not … th-the tree.” Shōyō offered him a handkerchief but remained silent, sensing that his student might be ready to tell him about whatever was troubling him now.

Shinsuke noisily blew his nose. “My friend … I promised that I wouldn’t tell anyone …” His lower lip was quivering and his green eyes glistened with fresh tears. “But I haven’t seen him for days now ... What if he’s sick? What if he got hurt?”

“I can tell that you care about your friend very much, Shinsuke.” Shōyō sighed inwardly, relieved that Shinsuke was finally opening up. “It’s no wonder that you’re worried.”

His student was still sobbing and growing more and more distressed, and Shōyō noticed with concern that he was starting to struggle to get enough air.

“Hey … don’t forget to breathe. I know you’re upset, but you need to keep a clear head if you want to help your friend,” he said gently. “Now, I’d like you to take a few deep breaths with me.”

Shinsuke cast a somewhat doubtful look at him, but then nodded slowly.

Shōyō guided his disciple through a simple breathing exercise. “Better?” he asked after they had finished.

Shinsuke blinked the last tears away and sniffed. “Uh-huh,” he said, visibly calmer than before.

“If you tell me more about it, I’ll do my best to help.” Shōyō squeezed Shinsuke’s shoulder, smiling at him reassuringly. “We’ll find a solution together.”

Shinsuke lowered his gaze, biting his lip. “I’m not sure if I should … I’ve already said too much … I promised my friend that I wouldn’t tell anyone about him.” His hands clenched the fabric of his hakama. “I just … I don’t want to … to betray his trust.”

Shōyō hummed. “So that’s why you asked me if I had ever broken a promise …”

His disciple nodded wordlessly.

“How long has your friend been missing?” Shōyō asked, determined to get to the bottom of this mystery.

“The last time I saw him … was over a week ago. We didn’t really talk about when to meet again, but …”

“What about his parents? Why don’t we talk to them?” Shōyō suggested. “Surely they will know about his whereabouts. Maybe it’s all a misunderstanding and your friend is safe and sound.”

“He’s all alone … he doesn’t have anybody to look after him …” Shinsuke’s voice trembled.

“Only … only me, I guess.” he added quietly.

“Who is your friend, Shinsuke?” Shōyō had an odd sense of foreboding he couldn’t quite shake off. The memory of what had happened on this fateful day years ago left him feeling rattled, not quite himself. But he had to concentrate on the task at hand, on helping Shinsuke. “Do I know him? Is it one of your fellow students?“

“No …” Shinsuke shook his head. “He's around my age. He probably lives in the castle town. I don’t know his name … he’s mute and can’t write, so he couldn’t tell me.” More tears rolled down his cheeks.

Shōyō stroked his back to soothe him. “I’m sure he’s glad to have you as a friend. What does he look like? Can you describe him to me? I’ll go to the castle town and ask around.”

“He’s a little taller than me … like this.” Shinsuke indicated the boy’s height with his hand. “His eyes are silver. His hair looks kind of like Gintoki’s hair, but pretty. He’s very pale. And … and there’s a big scar on his face.”

A gust of wind moved through the branches of the old pine and brushed them with cold fingers. Despite the heat, Shōyō felt as if ice was spreading through his veins, and he shuddered. From the corner of his eye, he could see a dark shape in the grass.

A small body lying in a pool of blood. Silver hair stained crimson.

“Sen ... sei …” A broken whimper. A little hand reaching for him, trembling, desperate.

Shōyō wanted to speak, but his tongue was sticking to the roof of his mouth. He blinked, and the haunting image disappeared.

“Sensei? Are you sure you’re okay? You’re acting really weird … ” Shinsuke frowned, his eyes narrowing.

“Shinsuke? I … I’m quite alright. Don’t worry.” Shōyō tried his hardest to project an air of calmness and control, but his thoughts were racing. Could it be …? But he’d seen him die before his very eyes! And yet … Shinsuke’s description … the likeness was too uncanny to be a coincidence.

His disciple jumped to his feet, suspicion flashing in his green gaze. “You know something, right?“ he burst out. “Have you seen my friend? Do you know him?”

“No!” Shōyō exclaimed. "I don't know your friend. How can I, when I've never seen him before?"

“I don't know him Shinsuke, I promise.” he repeated in a softer tone, cursing inwardly. Why did his disciple have to be so perceptive?

Shinsuke gave him a last searching look. Then, he relented and drowsily rubbed his swollen eyes, barely managing to suppress a yawn. “Okay.”

“I’ll go to the castle town right away and ask around. I’ll do everything in my power to find your friend, Shinsuke. I'm giving you my word.” Shōyō smiled faintly. “Now go to your room and get some rest. I’ll take care of everything from here on out.”

Shōyō gritted his teeth. The headache that had been plaguing him for weeks now had returned with a vengeance. A terrible feeling of dread settled in his stomach, but at the same time, a wild, impossible hope tore at his heart like a bird trying to break free from a net. He would not be able to rest until he had found out the truth behind Shinsuke’s elusive friend.

* * *

Takasugi fell asleep immediately after he had slipped beneath the covers, feeling exhausted and emotionally drained. When he awoke again, he was surrounded by complete darkness. Had he slept so long that night had fallen? But no—this impenetrable blackness was not natural. He could see nothing at all, not even shapes and shades of grey. An awful metallic stench crept into his nose and made him gag, and there was a curious whistling sound whenever he drew breath. Panic rose inside him. No matter how hard he struggled to get enough air, it felt like he was suffocating. He tried to move, but found that his limbs were trapped. He weakly cried out for help, but nobody answered. The ringing in his ears drowned out all his thoughts, and darkness closed in on him.

* * *

Takasugi started from his sleep coughing and gasping for air. After a while, his breath steadied. Outside, the wind was howling like a wounded animal. He listened to it rattling the shutters as if it wanted to enter the house to seek refuge from the elements. That was when he noticed a faint noise, almost swallowed by the approaching storm. What was that sound? It seemed like it was coming from the garden. Someone was weeping bitterly. Could it be the boy? A flicker of hope glimmered in his chest. He quickly threw on a coat and hurried outside, following the heartrending sobs to the garden. There, he saw a small figure crouching beneath the pine tree. He couldn’t see their face, but the silver hair shimmering in the darkness was unmistakable. Relief made his legs feel as wobbly as agar jelly, and he stumbled and nearly fell as he ran towards his friend.

“You’re back!” he exclaimed breathlessly. “Are you okay? I was so worried … why didn’t you come earlier?”

But the boy was unconsolable. He didn’t answer, didn’t even seem to be aware of Takasugi’s presence.

“Hey … hey, it’s me … Don’t you recognise me?”

“It’s so dark,” the boy muttered. “It hurts … Sensei … Where are you?” His silver eyes were dull with pain.

Takasugi’s mouth fell open. “You can speak?” But he quickly recovered from his shock. This was hardly the most important matter now. He touched his friend’s shoulder, trying to console him, and gasped. His fingers were wet and stained with a dark liquid.

Takasugi stared at his hand in shock. “Is that …? You’re … you’re hurt!” He knelt down next to the boy and started to examine his injuries. “What-what happened? Who did this to you?” Takasugi’s heart ached so much for him that he felt sick to his stomach. “You-you’re hurt pretty badly … You need a doctor.”

The boy looked around in bewilderment. “I don’t understand … what happened to me?” A coughing fit wracked his thin body, and a trail of blood trickled from his lips.

“Oh … oh no …” Takasugi tried to keep his voice from trembling, but in vain. “Sensei!” he shouted. “Sensei, we need help! My friend—“ The storm ripped the words from his mouth, and a thought struck him like lightning. Had Shōyō even returned? Or was he still searching for the boy in the castle town?

A white hand grabbed his arm, and he turned towards his friend again in surprise. The silver gaze pierced through him like a blade.

Takasugi felt a sense of vertigo, just like when he had met the boy for the first time. “What are you do—“ He tried to shake him off, alarmed, but it was too late. He was falling, falling, down into a deep, dark chasm. But this time, there was no one to break the spell.

And then—nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, I'd be very happy if you could give me some feedback 💕 Talk to me about Gintama or TakaObo on twitter ([@sentientomrice](https://twitter.com/sentientomrice/))

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, I'd be very happy if you could give me some feedback 💕 Talk to me about Gintama or TakaObo on twitter (@lostedgelord) if you like!


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